


Something so Pure

by shealynn88



Category: Supernatural
Genre: John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Protective Dean Winchester, Timeline What Timeline, vague references to underage wincest, vague spoilers through S6
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2019-12-03
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:02:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21652693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shealynn88/pseuds/shealynn88
Summary: Dean has always known that Sam was the better one, the one who had a chance out there.Let Sam be the golden boy.  Dean will be the dark one, the filthy one who does the dirty work and blackens his soul, sure as a crossroads deal.  It’s a small price to pay.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 9
Kudos: 48





	Something so Pure

Dean doesn’t let himself think too hard about those nights they drink too much and stumble back to the room— that ubiquitous room they’re in on any given night—together, limbs entwined like some sort of creature that is somehow more stable than they either are, alone.

And isn’t that fucking poetic, that they stand better together, even like this, even if Sam doesn’t see it like Dean always has. But Dean’s never stood solid on his own, always needed someone else to twine into, to pull strength from, or for. And it worked with their dad, but that twining was fear, always fear—that he’d fail and disappoint and make all that sacrifice and darkness suddenly worthless.

With Sam it’s different. Dean stands tall and strong because he needs to protect. He will until his last breath. Beyond it, if he can. Sam is everything he could never be—smart and hopeful and born for bigger things and a life that goes beyond hunting and killing and blood and more blood, and Dean can fight for that. It feels like, finally, he’s fighting for something clean.

And if that clean and perfect thing is sometimes filthy and whispers his name in the dark in a way a brother never should, well, that’s all in the dark, and it barely counts.

In the light, Sammy is hopeful and optimistic and energetic, and everything a golden boy should be.

And Dean will keep their secrets forever and ever, to the grave and beyond, because those moments in the darkness are what feed him, what keep him fighting every new ghost, ghoul, demon—whatever else the world has to throw at them. Bring them the devil and Dean will fight. Because he has those moments, private and secret, that he wears like armor. 

Let Sam be the golden boy. Dean will be the dark one, the filthy one who does the dirty work and blackens his soul, sure as a crossroads deal. It’s a small price to pay.

Sam deserves an after. He’s proven he can do it. Dean can’t. There is no ‘after Sam' for him. Only those nights, spread open and vulnerable, speaking in tongues that only they understand.

“ _Look at you_ ,” Sam will say, reverent, like Dean is worth something. “ _Come for me_ ,” he’ll whisper, and when has Dean ever said no to his baby brother. 

“ _You can do this,_ ” Dean will promise. “ _You’re better than this_ ,” as he stitches up another tear in Sam’s perfect, scarred, hunter skin. “ _I’ve got you,_ ” and he’ll prove it with careful sutures, with the best vodka, with gentle bites that are meant more to distract than to hurt, more to own than to scar.

He’ll make Sam come with his mouth, with his fingers, just as he always has, since they laid, breathless, in the bed next to their father’s. “ _Come for me_ ,” he’ll whisper, and he’ll mean, “ _Go without me, keep going, keep searching—the world is bigger than you and me, and it’s yours._ ”

And when Sam goes to Stanford, it doesn’t come as a surprise. It hurts, sure. The gut wound Dean always knew he’d never quite recover from. But he knew it was coming. He’d been begging for it for years. “ _Get out, get out, own this world for us both, Sam. It’s too late for me, but you...you have a chance out there_.”

And then he’d dragged him back. Guilty and regretful, but unable to stop. Wasn’t strong enough to let go forever. Not without dad to hold him in line with that constant reminder of ‘ _not good enough_ ’ that still lives in his blood and marrow.

Sam’s bigger, heavier. Harder and more demanding and softer and then, abruptly, sharper. 

Those edges make Dean fall apart even faster, cut him up and tear him into something new, something that is the negative of each new Sam, created and formed by loss, by Hell, by Lucifer, by something that felt like life and fell short. And each time, Dean is helpless in his own restructure, rebuilt under Sam’s relentless hands. Sometimes angry, sometimes tender, and it never matters which because Dean has never belonged anywhere else.


End file.
